Page 95 of Laird of Wrath

Rhea didn’t need much more coaxing. A few more thrusts and she climaxed, wave after wave of pleasure washing over her. Warmth spread through her entire body, all the way down to her toes, and she trembled, her breath coming in short gasps.

Callum kept thrusting deeply into her, working her through it, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She clung to him, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, her eyes squeezed shut.

Eventually, he began chasing his peak, thrusting into her harder and faster until she reached a second climax, this one softer, slower, like an afterthought. Her inner walls clamped down on him, triggering his release, and he spilled deep inside her with her name on his lips.

Afterwards, he rolled onto his back and pulled her with him. She curled around him as they lay there, trying to catch their breath.

The room was quiet. The air was warm. Callum’s fingers traced idle shapes on her skin, from her ribs to her thigh, caressing her softly.

Everything they had been through seemed so distant now, and yet Rhea knew it would still haunt them for a long time. But there, in Callum’s arms, in the quiet of the room, she couldn’t bring herself to worry about any of it.

All she could do was imagine the future—a future with Callum by her side, with those they loved; with children, many of them, brightening the castle with their laughter.

There could be a hundred wars, a hundred enemies, but he would always return to me.

The End?